Carmen's Messenger Part 38

By and by the slope grew gentler, and tall forest crept up the hill when they came to a ravine a torrent had worn out of the mountain side.

The ravine was narrow and for a short distance below the top the banks shelved steeply; then a wall of rock fell straight to the water that brawled in the bottom of the deep gap. The light was dim down there, but one could see livid flashes of foam through a haze of spray. The trail had been made by lumbermen or prospectors, who had provided a bridge by chopping a big fir so that it fell across the chasm.

Somebody had made the pa.s.sage easier by roughly squaring its upper surface, though it is seldom a Canadian bushman takes this precaution with his primitive bridge. There was no reason anybody with normal nerve should hesitate to cross, but the party stopped.

"You have gone farther than usual to-day, Featherstone, and perhaps you'd sooner cut out the bridge," said one. "I think we could get round the head of the canon without lengthening the distance much."

Lawrence smiled. "My object is to keep on going farther than I did before, and I don't see why the log should bother me. It's my legs that are weak--not my head."

"Very well," said the other. "I'll go first and Miss Chisholm will come next."

"Am I to be encouraged or shamed into crossing?" Lawrence asked with a laugh.

He let them go, and Lucy did not object. Lawrence was not well yet, but she had seen him climb among the creva.s.ses and knew his steadiness.

Then, although she did not know how much this counted, she was proud of his courage and forgot that physical weakness sometimes affects one's nerve. Walters could not harm him, because he was not near enough.

When the first two had gone over, Lawrence walked out upon the log.

Lucy was not afraid, but she watched and remarked that he seemed unusually careful. After a few paces, he moved slowly, and when near the middle stopped. She saw him clench his hands as he tried to brace himself.

"Go on, Lawrence," she said, as quietly as she could.

He moved another pace or two uncertainly, and then stopped again, and Lucy struggled with her terror as she tried to think. If he were well, it would not be difficult to turn and come back, or sit upon the log, but either would be dangerous if his nerve had gone. She had failed to rouse him and durst not try again. If he slipped or stumbled, he would plunge into the canon. It was horrible to reflect that she had allowed him to make the venture. Then, throwing off the numbing fear, she sprang to her feet.

"Stand quite still; I'm coming to help you," she said in a strained voice and went towards the log.

Next moment she was seized from behind, and Walters ran past. She struggled fiercely, biting her lips as she stopped the scream that might startle her lover, and heard the man who held her breathing hard.

But he held her firmly and she stopped struggling, with a paralyzing horror that made her muscles limp. Still, she could see and think, and the scene fixed itself upon her brain like a photograph; long afterwards she could remember each minute detail.

The log occupied the foreground of the picture, running boldly across the gap in the pines, with a shadowy gulf beneath. Near the middle, Lawrence stood slackly, with his back to her, and behind him Walters walked across the trunk. His step was firm and agile, his figure well-proportioned and athletic, and it was somehow obvious that he relished the opportunity of showing his powers. Afterwards, she hated him for his vanity.

It was plain that little physical help could be given. All that was possible was moral support; a firm, guiding grasp that would restore the shaken man's confidence, and the comfort of feeling there was somebody near who was not afraid. But a very slight push the wrong way, or even an unsteadiness in the hand that should have guided, might be fatal. Lawrence was at the mercy of a man who had plotted to destroy him and could do so now without risk. Lucy could not warn him, because if he were startled, he would fall. Waiting in an agony of suspense, she saw Walters grasp his shoulder.

"Steady, partner; we'll soon be across," he said in a quiet, rea.s.suring voice, and Lawrence's slack pose stiffened, as if he had gathered confidence.

Lucy thought he did not know who had spoken, but the horrible tension did not slacken yet, though Lawrence began to move forward. Walters came close behind, rather guiding than supporting him, and in a few moments they stepped down on the other side. Then Lucy gasped and logs and pines got blurred and indistinct. She conquered the faintness and went resolutely towards the log.

"Wait and let me help you," somebody said.

"No," she answered in a strained voice; "I'm quite steady."

She crossed the log without a tremor and running to where Lawrence sat put her arm round him. Lawrence said nothing, but took and held her hand.

XXIX

FOSTER ARRIVES

When Lucy looked up, the others had gathered round and Walters smiled sympathetically.

"Are you better?" he asked Lawrence.

"Yes; we'll go on in a minute. I don't know what was the matter; felt dizzy and couldn't keep my balance. Think I needed a rest."

"The thing's obvious," Walters agreed. "After seeing you on the glaciers, I reckon your nerve's all right, but you're not well yet and we brought you up the last hill too fast. The exertion disturbed the beating of your heart and a few drops too much blood sent to the brain makes a big difference. That's what happened; it's our fault."

Lucy was grateful for the explanation, and thought it correct, but she noted with some concern that Lawrence did not show the embarra.s.sment she had expected, which indicated that he had not recovered yet. In the meantime, Walters gave her a look of ironical amus.e.m.e.nt. She could not resent this and it seemed ridiculous to doubt him, but she did.

"Thank you; you were very quick and cool," she said with an effort.

Walters tactfully bowed his acknowledgment, as if he did not want to press his claim on her grat.i.tude, and Lucy turned to one of the others.

"Was it you who held me back?" she asked, and when the man nodded, resumed: "Of course, you were right. I might have startled him and we would both have fallen."

"That's what I was afraid of. Anyhow, Mr. Walters deserves your thanks most. He saw what was needed and did it smartly."

Then Lawrence got up, with some color in his face, and gave Walters his hand. "I expect I would have fallen if you hadn't come along," he said and turned to the rest. "I feel I must apologize for frightening you.

My best excuse is that I wasn't as fit as I thought."

They urged him to rest and one offered to run to the hotel for brandy, but he declared he was able to go on, and they tactfully began to talk about something else and after a few minutes let him drop behind. He was grateful and went slowly, with his hand on Lucy's arm. Sometimes he pressed it gently and she gave him a tender look, but said nothing.

She could not talk; her relief was too great. When they reached the hotel Lawrence went to his room, and soon afterwards Lucy met Walters on the veranda.

"I hope Lawrence is not much the worse," he said.

Lucy remembered the part she had taken and resolved to play it out.

"I expect he will be as well as usual after a rest. You took a very generous revenge."

Walters laughed. "After all, I was only a little quicker than the rest and really ran no risk. I was behind him and he couldn't get hold of me. In fact, I don't know that I'd have had grit enough to stick to him if he had slipped."

He left her and Lucy could find no fault with his reply, which she admitted was frank and modest. For all that, her distrust had not been banished, and when, after a time, Lawrence came down, she said, "I suppose you're now satisfied that it wasn't Walters' fault you were left on the _couloir_?"

"Aren't you?" Lawrence asked with some surprise.

"No," said Lucy firmly. "I'm not quite satisfied. You see, there were a number of accidents, all leading to one result. Coincidences of that kind don't happen unless somebody arranges them."

Lawrence laughed. "Then they're not coincidences. Do you still hold Walters accountable for the accidents?"

"If he was accountable, they wouldn't be accidents," Lucy rejoined with some color in her face.

"A fair retort! But let's be serious. I'm not sure I'd have fallen off the log if I'd been left alone, but it's very possible. Walters'

help was useful, whether he saved my life or not, and you can't deny that he meant to save it."

"No; I think he meant to save you. Did you know who it was when he touched you?"

"I did. Remembering Jake's theory, I saw it was possible he had come to push me off, but I knew he hadn't. That's why I gave him my hand afterwards."

"Ah!" said Lucy. "I was sorry when you did that, because I knew what it meant"